


Stay

by softestpunk



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-AC: Rogue, just... trust me on this it's all fluff and all smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 22:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18040322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/softestpunk
Summary: Shay completes the last mission Haytham had for him, and sails back to the Grand Master. With his final task complete, does he have any reason to stay?





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> *careens into fandom four years late with Starbucks*
> 
> Hi. I brought all my post-Rogue feelings.
> 
> Also I'm dedicating this to/blaming it wholly on [quills_at_dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quills_at_dawn/pseuds/quills_at_dawn), who definitely put me up to it.

The wind whipped the sails of the Morrigan as she sailed into Boston harbour, her captain keeping the wheel steady with eyes on the lights of the port town.

_Home_ , Shay thought.

Home, he'd come to realise, wasn't a physical place. It was where your mind wandered back to when you were weary and heartsick, it was what you thought of when a task was finished and another was yet to begin.

Boston wasn't home, but it _contained_ home. For the time being.

As his men threw ropes out to the dock, Shay smoothed his hand down the front of his coat, feeling the shape of the box tucked safely inside. As close to his heart as decent tailoring would allow.

Shallow rainwater puddles shimmered under his boots as he marched toward the heart of the city and the constant drizzle soaked into his shirt. In this way at least, Boston almost _was_ like home. If home could be called the place of one's birth.

The name of an inn he'd only seen in neatly-penned letters filled a small hanging sign outside it, and the sight made Shay's heart pick up speed along with his boots.

He ducked into the low-lit tavern, nudging a loudly-singing drunk out of the way as a smile turned up the corner of his lips. Oh, but the man he was looking for must have _hated_ it here.

Shay had half a mind to buy a house. Boston seemed as good a place as any, and the Templars had need for a base here.

A problem for later. For now, a quick word with the barkeep sent him bounding up two flights of stairs and knocking sharply on the door.

"Only me," he called out. "If there's a password, I can't remember it."

The hinges creaked as the heavy door swung open, revealing, first and foremost, a cozy fire. Shay ducked through the door, and turned to look at his host.

He probably _shouldn't_ have grinned like an idiot at Haytham, but it was hard not to.

Almost twenty years he'd been looking for this damned box. For Haytham.

"You've found it," Haytham said, reading him like an open book with as much ease as ever.

Without a word, Shay reached into his coat and pulled the box out, warmth blooming in his chest at the realised that Haytham hadn't so much as flinched at the motion.

Trust. Hard-earned trust that Shay had never yet seen Haytham extend to anyone else.

Their bare fingers brushed against each other as Shay passed the box over, sending a tingle from the base of his skull down to the end of his spine. He wasn't sure they'd _ever_ touched skin-to-skin before.

Haytham paced over to the fire to examine the box in the light. It was a humble thing. Rough-carved, more than a little dented...

"You know," Haytham said, setting the box aside as though it was no more than an interesting trinket. "It reminds me of you. Pretty enough, but rough around the edges and on first glance, nothing at all special. But for someone who knows its secrets..."

"I take it this is supposed to be a compliment, sir," Shay murmured, shrugging out of his wet coat.

"You hardly need me to tell you how highly I think of you, Shay," Haytham said softly, his voice a low, warm thing that curled around the pit of Shay's stomach.

Twenty years. _Twenty years_ , and he still...

"No," Shay said. Haytham had made it clear that he thought the world of him, for reasons Shay had never entirely understood.

"But I do need you to tell me..." Shay began, unsure how he wanted to phrase what he needed to say. "This is the last outstanding mission. My work here is done. Unless..."

Shay's stomach clenched as he said it. He knew what he wanted, what he'd wanted for so long he could barely remember life before it.

They had danced around one another like flames in the wind for near on two decades. It was now or never. Now, at this decisive moment, when Shay might walk away for good and no one would think to stop him, or never. When he did.

His loyalty hadn't been to the Templars as an organisation, but to the people.

To Haytham.

"Unless?" Haytham repeated, wetting his lips.

"Unless," Shay started again, blood pounding in his ears. There was every chance he was about to make a fool of himself.

All the same, he took a step toward Haytham, leaving less than a foot of space between them. Haytham's eyes glinted in the light of the fire, steely as ever, but with uncertainty in them.

Uncertainty and, Shay thought, curiosity. Anticipation.

Hope?

"Unless there's some other reason I should stay?"

It felt like the coward's way out, but the decision had to be in Haytham's hands. Grand Master he may have been, but a man of vast experience in _these_ matters, he was not.

Trying to pull him in would only end in pushing him away. It _had_ to be on his terms. It had to take his comfort into account.

And Shay was ready and willing to do whatever would make Haytham comfortable.

But only if he heard that he had a chance. That he wasn't going to pine away forever in the hopes that Haytham might, finally, be ready.

Or, for that matter, interested at all.

Haytham's throat bobbed as he swallowed.

"Would it be enough of a reason if I simply _asked_ you to?" Haytham asked, meeting Shay's gaze in the firelight, already high cheekbones dramatically cast in shadow.

His face was beginning to wrinkle, and his hair was silver now, but from Shay's perspective he was as beautiful now as the day they'd met. More so.

"I think it would," Shay responded. "If you're willing to ask."

Haytham nodded, clearly understanding now what Shay wanted from him. Nothing more than the promise that all this wasn't in vain. That the thing between them felt the same from both sides.

Shay gasped as he felt Haytham's bare fingers curl around his own. He'd never even _seen_ Haytham make bare-handed contact with another person.

"Stay," Haytham said, quiet but clear, holding Shay's gaze so intensely that looking away felt impossible. "Stay with me."

"Yes," Shay responded, not needing even a moment to consider his answer. He'd been considering his answer for many a year.

Once he'd done what Haytham had asked of him, once he'd found the Precursor box, _then_ , he might just deserve the man his heart had chosen on the first day they'd met.

And now they were finally here.

Taking a chance, Shay reached out--slow at first, cautious, afraid of pushing too far but too excited to stop himself.

Again, Haytham didn't flinch. He didn't flinch as Shay's hand moved toward him, nor as it came to rest on his cheek, thumb stroking along his clean-shaven jaw.

The kiss tasted of seawater and whiskey and Shay would have been happy to drown in it. Haytham's lips parted, surprisingly eager for a man Shay thought of as so reserved it must have physically hurt, and Shay took advantage of that development to swipe his tongue along Haytham's teeth and the inside of his lip, teasing.

Haytham's pace, but Shay's way. His knowledge and experience and all the rest of it laid out for Haytham to make the most of, to have the _use_ of, like he always had in all other ways.

The shock of being pushed back was enough to make Shay stumble as he crashed into the wall behind him, Haytham's frame pinning him to the wooden boards.

"I have ached for you," Haytham admitted, lips brushing against Shay's as he spoke. "I have ached and wanted and wished, for you, since the day and hour we met."

Shay swallowed.

Decades of lost time.

Well, no matter. All that meant was they had a lot of catching up to do.

"Feeling's mutual," he admitted, revelling in the warmth of Haytham's body, the solid weight of him pressed up against his own, the sound of both their heartbeats falling into sync in the otherwise quiet room, the pitter-pat of rain on the window an impossibly distant counter-note.

Haytham surged forward, kissing with all the urgency and need that Shay had long fantasised would be there, hidden under the stiff upper lip and layer upon layer of solid steel plate armour. His mouth was hot and sweet and satisfying, all the worry Shay had been carrying about this for weeks finally melting away into the wall behind him, fizzling out as though it'd never been there at all.

Haytham's hand on the front of his breeches made him hiss, another shock for the evening.

Well.

He _had_ promised himself he'd go along with Haytham's pace.

He just hadn't expected it to be so quick.

"Steady on," Shay teased, his head thumping against the wall behind him as Haytham tugged the tails of his shirt free.

"We've waited long enough, don't you think?" Haytham asked, and Shay couldn't exactly argue with that. They deserved this, and who knew when they'd have another chance, another warm bed and roaring fire and the certainty that for tonight, at least, they could afford to drop their guard?

Shay's cock ached with need by the time Haytham pushed his underwear aside and curled his fingers around it, work-rough hands gloriously hot and confident as he gave him two good, hard tugs.

Stomach clenching, Shay panted for breath as he tried to gather enough of his wits to reciprocate. He managed to reach out, fumbling awkwardly for a few moments before Haytham got the idea and helped, freeing his own hard, gorgeous cock for Shay to see.

"Oh, look at _you,_ " he purred. "Prettiest I've ever seen."

"Have you seen--?"

"Dozens," Shay admitted. "You don't uh... you don't get out much, do you?"

Haytham shook his head. "It's been some time," he said, and Shay wasn't sure how long that meant, but he suspected he should take any guess he might have made and then double it.

Which was fine. Whatever else had happened, Haytham wasn't going to go unsatisfied tonight.

Shay darted close to peck Haytham's lips, brushing their noses together as he pulled back. "Swap positions with me, and I'll make you see stars."

Haytham didn't need to be told twice. He whirled the two of them around, pressing his own back to the wall and pulling Shay toward him.

Shay fell to his knees with all the grace that befitted an Assassin-turned-Templar, hitting the ground with barely any sound at all and coming to eye-level with Haytham's pretty, straining cock.

He'd wanted to do this for so long that he could barely believe it was happening.

Shuffling forward, he pressed his nose to Haytham's belly, avoiding his cock for the moment just to breathe in the scent of him, warm and comforting, but not nearly as familiar as he would have liked.

That could change. That _would_ change. Now that Shay had the barest taste of this, he was never letting it go.

Haytham's fingers slid into his hair, toying with the ribbon holding it back for a moment before he clearly came to a decision, tugging the knot free and letting it fall.

Shay smiled against his clean, pale skin, skin very few people had ever seen, and then turned his head to press a kiss to the base of Haytham's cock.

Haytham's knees buckled immediately.

_It's been some time_ had clearly been an understatement.

"Shay," Haytham gasped above him, fingers tightening around a fistful of Shay's hair, tugging hard.

"That's me," Shay murmured, letting his lips brush against the sensitive skin of Haytham's cock as he spoke. He kissed his way up the shaft, smiling as Haytham made desperate little sounds above him, pausing for a moment as he came to the head.

After letting Haytham hang for a moment, he opened his mouth and pressed the flat of his tongue to the head, licking away a bead of precome and rolling it around his mouth, memorising the taste.

Haytham's fingers tightened painfully, but a little pain had never stopped Shay before. If anything, it only encouraged him.

"Just you let go," he murmured. "Let someone else take care of you for once."

Shay didn't have to look up to _feel_ Haytham nod, a tight, desperate gesture that made his stomach clench. Haytham was taking more rest days from here on out. Taking better care of himself. _Not_ running himself ragged.

He closed his eyes as he leaned forward, letting the head of Haytham's cock slide past his lips, skimming over his tongue and then nudging the back of his palate. Salt-skin and the faintest trace of soap filled Shay's senses, another dribble of precome spilling over his tongue as he opened his eyes again and looked up at Haytham, finding him staring right back at him.

He didn't need to say anything. The look on his face told Shay everything he needed to know.

Shuffling just a little closer, Shay sealed his lips around Haytham's cock and held his gaze as he sucked, swirling his tongue around the head, one hand coming up to stroke the base. Experience told him how good this felt, and he wanted Haytham to have all of it.

His free hand went to his own cock, already slick with precome from the sheer _thought_ of sucking Haytham off, and he hissed as he wrapped his fingers around it, cheeks hollowing in desperation.

Judging by the way Haytham's hips were rocking, the way he was just _barely_ holding back from fucking Shay's throat, it wouldn't take all that long to get him off.

Which was just as well, because Shay had been anticipating this from more or less the moment he escaped Versailles.

The tight knot of his orgasm built and built in the pit of his belly, ready to burst any moment. All he needed was to get Haytham off, to feel him come down his throat as he'd imagined so often, desperate to give him the rest of himself, every part of him, love and loyalty and want and need swirling together in his chest, making his lungs ache.

"Shay," Haytham warned, his hips jerking, a low, needy growl rumbling in the back of his throat.

Shay sucked harder, pushing himself further, hand sliding down to cup Haytham's balls as he took him right to the back of his throat, swallowing thickly around him.

For a moment he worried he'd run out of breath before he got what he wanted, but then Haytham's hips arched away from the wall, cock surging into Shay's mouth, and it probably would have hurt a little if the first spurt hadn't trickled down the back of Shay's throat just as he came, too, the whole world whiting out as his cock twitched in his hand and he spilled all over himself, the satisfaction of having made Haytham come washing over him in wave after wave of pleasure.

A shiver ran down Shay's spine as Haytham pulled back, forcing him to follow if he wanted to lick his Grand Master clean. And he did. He wanted all of this, everything he could get, and he wasn't about to settle for less.

Eighteen years of scouring the known world meant he'd _earned_ it.

Once he was done, he let Haytham draw him close, forehead resting against his hip, Haytham's fingers carding through his hair with a tenderness Shay had often seen the barest hint of in him, but had never really dreamed might be directed at him.

He'd never gotten this far.

He had no idea what came next.

Except for the words clawing their way up his throat, screeching to be free.

"I love you," he murmured, expecting to feel shame or embarrassment or even worry that the sentiment wouldn't be returned, but realising as he said it that none of that mattered.

It was the truth. He wanted Haytham to know it.

That was all. Just the simple, honest truth, and one he should have spoken aloud years ago. He'd loved Haytham for so long it was impossible to remember what life had been like beforehand.

The silence afterward didn't feel awkward. It felt like the silence of a man who'd just heard something truly surprising.

"The bed," Haytham said eventually, offering his arm to help Shay up, which he accepted gratefully on trembling legs.

They stumbled their way over, collapsing in a heap of exhausted, sated limbs, and then eventually gathering the presence of mind to start tugging clothing off.

Haytham was glorious naked. All the scars of his history painted across his skin, each one a story of a day he'd been better than someone else, a day he'd lived to tell the tale.

Shay had dozens of his own, each telling similar stories.

Probably a few more of his had happened in bars, but they were... similar creatures. Birds of a feather.

At peace with their lives in ways most men never would be, even if they'd been simple farmers or merchants.

Haytham rolled over and pulled Shay close on the narrow bed, sweat-slicked skin sticking together where they were touching, but neither of them bothered by it. This felt good, and right, and as though things were finally the way they long should have been.

"Then you will stay?" Haytham asked, and if Shay didn't know better, he would have thought the man sounded just a little uncertain.

"I'm yours," Shay promised, letting his eyes fall closed. That, too, was the truth. Haytham had always been able to wield him like a finely-crafted blade, though he'd never once felt used.

He'd felt cherished.

"Yes," Haytham agreed. "Yes, you are."


End file.
